Move to the back of the bus

I have a terrible confession to make.

When I was younger, and my brothers were weaker than me, my neighbor, Sara, and I used to make them wear girl's clothing.

OK. Not just clothing. Hair accessories too.

And they absolutely hated it (my dad also hated it, you can imagine). They would do everything in their four-year-old power to stop it, but we were just that persistent.

The thing is, is that we had dolls and Barbie's. Why, exactly, we had to force my innocent brothers to wear ribbons, I'm not really sure.

I honestly still feel bad about it. That's one of the meaner things an older sister can do to her brothers.

I'd like to tell myself that the reason I was doing it was beyond the playfulness of a child, which is why dolls did not fulfill my needs. Maybe I was trying to break down societal stereotypes and show my brothers that they could be whatever they wanted to be.

Somehow I doubt it.

However, this is somewhat similar to the mission of the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty. While the company has received many complaints and they're striving to remodel the campaign to some extent, I think it's an impressive mission.

It's nice for girls to see that perfection is not commonplace. Whether or not Dove will truly transform the entire media industry is debatable.

But, hey, Rosa Parks probably thought she was taking a small step when she stayed seated, and look at all that she accomplished. You've got to start somewhere.

Have a Coke and a smile

"Joey: I hate Pottery barn too! They kicked me out of there just because I sat on a bed.
Chandler: You took off your pants and climbed under the sheets!" Friends

Yesterday I enjoyed a Coke in Africa, Europe and Asia. I've officially mastered teleporting.

OK. That's a lie. But I did enjoy Coke from all of those continents, I just remained in Atlanta while doing so. Specifically in the World of Coke.

Katie, Emily and I had a fabulous afternoon exploring the vast world that is the Coke museum. We saw a video in 4-D, tasted a variety of flavors of Coke and met a crazy lady wearing way too much denim.
I learned quite a lot about the company, but what I found most interesting is that a bottle of Coke was a mere five cents from 1886-1956. Can you imagine? At school, my friends and I pledge our loyalty to the Circle K because we can purchase a Diet Coke for seventy three cents.

Consider being able to purchase a Diet Coke for 5 cents. I could have almost fifteen of them for the price I pay now (It's probably for the best that I can't, really).

Thinking about the inexpensive price makes me a little nostalgic for the days before our time. I'd like to be able to go back to 1950 and stock up on Diet Coke before returning to the present.

Similarly, it seems that Jennie Garth is itching for earlier days. She and other members of the Beverly Hills 90210 cast, including Tori Spelling, are set to be in a new series this fall, 90210: The Next Generation.

Long ago, when 90210 was still airing new episodes, my siblings and I were not allowed to watch it. It was banned from our household, along with The Simpsons.

To be honest, I've still never seen The Simpsons. However, I did manage to sneak in an episode of 90210 from time to time. While it was highly entertaining and far ahead of its time with the whole So Cal craze (The O.C., Laguna Beach, The Hills...) I'm a little concerned.

Just because the Sex and the City movie was a hit does not mean everyone should come back for round two (all of this recycling!).

Besides, I'm not sure how well the show will be without Luke Perry. An integral part of the drama surrounded bad boy Dylan's love triangle with Brenda and Kelly; it might really lack something.

As excited as I could be about seeing Beverly Hills' finest reunite, I might be more excited about the potential Friends movie. As far as I'm concerned, as long as the original six characters are all present, it could be amazing.

We better be careful, though. If too many shows enjoy silver screen success, it could get out of control. Before we know it, Danny Tanner will be up there kissing the Olsen twins goodnight.

Here's to you, Founding Fathers

I'd like to think that I'm not a superstitious person. I don't knock on wood or run from black cats. I might even open an umbrella indoors from time to time. I definitely don't concern myself with these silly worries.

However, I do maintain one superstition of my own. Under no circumstances will I ever press the "Door Close" button in an elevator. I have this terrible fear that pressing that horrible button is like asking to get stuck.

I would be so mad if I were to press the button and end up trapped for hours. Why couldn't I have waited the extra three seconds? I would have written my own claustrophobic death.

It's kind of like speeding. The one day that you go 12 m.p.h. over the speed limit instead of 8 is the one day you get pulled over, of course.

As you're sitting in your car, waiting 20 minutes for the officer to tally up the points on your license, you are cursing yourself for going 12 over. In the end, you only would have gained an extra four miles per hour, and now you lost a half hour.

If there is one day of the year that cops are ready to ticket for a mere four extra miles per hour, it's the Fourth of July (OK, and New Year's). Yesterday, I even saw a police officer that was so excited for the big day, he was warming up with extra fervor.

He was standing on the corner shooting his radar gun at passing vehicles and his motorcycle was hidden behind a nearby telephone pole. Now that is a sneaky maneuver.

I kind of wonder if police officers have a competition to see who can get more law breakers on big holidays. Unbuckled drivers are one point, tailgaters are two and speeders are three. (Bonus points for broken taillights!)

I think Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin might be offended if they knew America's birthday was being celebrated by police officers so terribly. The guys worked so hard to get us away from the mean queen and now the cops are being just as power hungry.

They might be too distracted by the invention of the car to notice the police officers, though. All I know is that we wouldn't' be quite so technologically advanced today if Benji hadn't run outside with his kite and key. America might not be here without those guys, either. So, on the fabulous holiday that is the Fourth of July, take a moment to think of our Founding Fathers.

Fly a kite, grill out, and light some sparklers. Here's to you, Ben Franklin.

M.I.A.

Every morning as I walk into work I pass a man standing on the corner. He's generally dressed in purple, is often dancing to his own music, and is incredibly friendly.

Each time I pass him, he extends some sort of a compliment towards me.

At the start of the summer, he would tell my I was beautiful or pretty, or something along those broad lines.

However, as he's become more comfortable with me, he's become more specific. He'll tell me I have nice legs or a great smile (he's a real confidence booster).

Yesterday, however was a very special day. As I passed him, he said, "Mmm, you have beautiful feet. I bet you make some boy so happy every night."

And on this particular day, I couldn't help it. I looked at him and with a smile, I said, "Thank you."

I think he earned the gratitude.

This is because the morning of June 30 was quite a struggle. I just couldn't seem to make my way out the door. I was running behind and felt particularly disheveled. He gave me that little lift I so desperately needed.

It is also convenient that he complimented my feet because my shoes happened to be MIA for a good portion of the morning.

I had just returned from Ashley's (beautiful and perfect) wedding and I'd forgotten that they were still in the front pocket of my suitcase. I had unpacked and put my suitcase up in the top of my closet. I truly thought I'd left them in Rosemary.

So, the fact that my shoes were of extra-importance to me, combined with the fact that I'd just gotten a pedicure, made his comment seem incredibly sincere. He really just made my day.

However, my shoe issues got me thinking. I really wish that I could have tracking devices on certain items. For example, my car keys.

Last Tuesday, when I arrived in Rosemary, I lost my car keys. Then, when I was driving back to Atlanta on Sunday morning, I left them in the bathroom stall. Then, Sunday evening at dinner, I left them at the register at Willy's. Now, what if I'd had a little tracking device on those puppies? I never would have had to look all over the house in Florida or go back into the gas station in Alabama.

I'm thinking the ideal tracking invention is just around the corner. The new Zoombak is about one step away from what I need.

I'd like to believe that if they do invent a device that tracks all of your possessions, I wouldn't invest in it, as it seems extremely materialistic.

However, the fact that I am still whining about my runaway Ray-Bans, which have been gone for over a week now, makes me think I might have wanted to track those things.

I left them on the table at the Flying Biscuit, which, being the detective that I am brings me to the conclusion that the waitress or next customer probably found them. And since the Flying Biscuit has not yet seen them, I am thinking whoever found those gems snagged them as his treasure. I can only hope their new home is a good one.

Can you imagine, though, if they did have a tracking device? Whoever discovered them would be walking around town, looking cool, singing finders keepers. Next thing he'd know, I'd sneak up behind him, dressed in black (obviously) and swoop in a snag the Ray-Bans back.

The thief would be so blinded by the sudden influx of sunlight he wouldn't even see what had happened. Before he could realize I'd been tracking the sunglasses all along, I'd be gone.

Until they invent this magical tracking device, though, I might just have to be a little more careful with my possessions. If I'm not, the man dressed in purple might be wearing my shoes before I know it.